Darkness
by SillastraDragontongue
Summary: Oneshot, prequel to The Assassins. This is what happened in that first night at the clearing with Voldemort. Please R&R.


The woods were silent. Too silent. She stared about, and her partner cast an annoyed glance back, shaking his head slightly, eyes warning her not to speak. If her mouth hadn't been shrouded by a balaclava she could have stuck her tongue out at him. Even so, she crouched lower in the thick underbrush and stared at the clearing before her.

Moonlight danced soft rays, turning the sleepy dale into a black and white hell, everything contrasted in sharp relief. Trees stretched their branches out towards the center of the grassy clearing, the wooden limbs stark white and bony in the light.

Shi was lucky, she thought grumpily. He only had human vision, not her advanced kitty-cat eyes, so what he saw was limited to the scope of however it was humans saw things.

Shifting her weight, Chandre caught Shi's gaze and motioned that she was going to make her way to the other side of the clearing in order to have a better view. He nodded, tapping his wrist to tell her that the time was running out, and then patted his crossbow. She touched hers in return, and slipped through the trees, a silent shadow encased in the darkness.

Pausing every so often she stopped and listened, careful, silent. Nothing. The silence was bothering her. Surely, even on this beleaguered planet there was some night life around. Not even an insect stirred or chirped. No birds. No other night critters running about procreating and hunting. The silence unnerved her, so she took a greater care to make even less noise than usual.

It seemed every breath she took echoed into the silence of the forest, every step crackled and shook the woods about her, the trees staring down at her in condemnation.

Their silence didn't bode well, and she got a sinking feeling in her stomach, but thrust it from her. In the middle of a job, a sudden objection of what conscience she had was never good. _Feelings_ were never good.

Finding a good place to settle, she went into the prone, her crossbow propped before her, pointing straight into the clearing. It wasn't better than a gun, and she missed the familiar weight of her 9 mm, but according to that greasy Cornelius Fudge, guns and other "Muggle" devices. Muggle her ass. She had no idea what the term meant, but she sure as hell wasn't a Muggle, despite not being able to work magik. _That_ rankled. Even on this planet, billions and trillions of miles away from home, there was magik and she couldn't work it. At least she was somewhat immune, to both the magik there and the magik here. She could feel it but not play with it, as it were.

This planet was a strange one, she reflected, tipping her head to listen to the whispers rolling in the wind that seemed to have risen from nowhere. It sent shivers down her bones, chilling her muscles even through her supple thermal gear.

It seemed that both the magik-makers, or weilders, of this planet coexisted almost unknown beside their non-magikal, or Muggle, counterparts. And those Muggles had no idea of the wide universe that sprawled beyond their backwards little planet, of the billions of stars and their worlds twinkling just beyond the horizon, always out of reach. To be sure, few of the witches or wizards knew of the universe beyond, or that people, _humans_, existed happily in their own little worlds, but that didn't really matter. Some wizards had built a portal, something run by magik but able to operate in the universe at large, and they had a soft presence in the galaxy. Not a huge presence at all, but enough to be able to contract two of the galaxy's best assassins—well, at least they were from an extremely prestigious company—to knock off their biggest enemy.

Lord Voldemort.

The name sent slight shivers down her spine, and she closed one eye, propping her cheek against the stock of the crossbow and sighting down, aiming it carefully at nothing in particular. The meeting hadn't commenced yet, and the main players hadn't made their entrance.

Death Eaters. She grimaced. They were actually her real target—hers and Shi's—as Cornelius Fudge hadn't thought they'd be able to knock off the Dark Lord himself. She begged to differ, but whatever. She and Shi would kill a couple Death Eaters and then book it out of there—a noise echoed through the clearing. A branch breaking.

Her head swiveled towards the noise, and her breath stilled as a black robed being strode out of the trees into the clearing, the hem of his robes brushing against the dewed grass. Another noise, another poof, and another being walked out. White skull masks covered their faces entirely. _Death Eaters_. Her lips curled into a smile.

The two figures nodded cautiously to each other and stood twenty feet apart from each other. Four more appeared from nowhere in the center of the clearing and ceremoniously took their places.

Twenty minutes crawled past and thirty-two more Death Eaters appeared. Her fingers itched, playing with the trigger. Her body trembled with anticipation, ready for the heady dance with death that was sure to come. This job would definitely test her to the utmost. If the Death Eaters were as powerful and as scary as she had been told, then both she and Shi were in for a challenge. Let it come.

Four more minutes dragged by, and she watched as the Death Eaters assembled themselves in a circle composed of three rows and wait, shifting impatiently for their leader.

Voldemort.

She and Shi had decided that they were strike just before the Dark Lord appeared, when everyone was assembled, so now was the time. She could feel her partner shift into readiness like he was a part of her, and suddenly one of the Death Eaters slumped to the ground without a sound, a bolt protruding from his throat. That was the signal.

She fired the first five bolts in her clip, downing one Death Eater for each press of the trigger, and her sword perched on her back, poised for the moment when she would be forced to draw that spelled blade and use it.

Chaos erupted among the Death Eaters, several screamed, and she was knocked back, rolling into a tree when one of the Death Eaters pointed his wand in her direction and blasted back her cover.

Quickly she rose to her feet, aware that Shi had also been exposed, and she saw his hand flick, throwing several throwing stars into the general mill of the group before she focused in on the man before her, rapidly closing.

Falling to the ground as he launched a spell, she gasped in pain, feeling the nimbus ripple across her back, and dropped the bow, drawing her sword as she rolled to her feet.

Leaping forwards as spells cackled around her, she raised her sword, slightly surprised when the blade absorbed the hit and glowed a bright blue before subsiding. She had known that the sword was made by the best Mage-Armorers, but this was new . . .

Her mind jerked back into the present. She had reached the first Death Eater. Thrusting her sword into his stomach as he waved his wand at her she leapt away, whirling around and laying about with her blade, absolutely wild and near drunk in the danger.

A blow struck her on the head, dizzying her, but she wasn't incapacitated and fought on.

"Get 'em! Take them down, damn it!" someone screamed. She saw Shi in the haze of spells and bodies. He lunged for a Death Eater, body moving in a blur as one foot lashed out and his arms wind-milled, daggers glinting in the moonlight and he fought like death walking.

She reached Shi in the panic, or he reached her, and they stood back to back, then launched themselves away from each other, creating two separate targets.

The steady press began to beat down on her, and she felt her arms grow slower, her body start to break down with exhaustion, too weary to continue dodging the spells that were being continually launched at her.

Chandre flung herself at a Death Eater who was slowly advancing, and had a dagger flipped into her hands, ready to gouge out the woman's eyes, when a blast shook the clearing and she was thrown to the ground.

"What is going on?" a voice boomed in the silence, broken only by the pants of the fighters.

Struggling to rise to her feet, Chandre froze, staring as a black cloud manifested fifteen feet away from her, forming into a black robe that swirled about the body of the ugliest man she had ever seen. He was facing away from her, but he was tall, at least seven feet, and thin, his cadaverous arms raised and bone pale in the harsh moonlight.

"What is this?" he snarled, and turned, his burning red eyes alighting on her. She gasped, and clutched at her sword.

_Voldemort_.

There was no mistake. And his eyes . . . the pupils were slit, just like hers.

"An attacker?" he asked, striding towards her. She staggered to her feet, wondering where in the world Shi was. He lay behind her, also rising to his feet, sword hanging in his hands.

Voldemort reached her before she was able to raise her blade for defense and struck her, his thin arm flinging her to the ground. He was on her before she could rise, bony fingers gripped about her throat. Her sword fell from her hands.

"A Muggle," he sneered, and she kicked and squirmed, gasping for breath. "Is this what Cornelius sent to fight me? A mere Muggle?" His eyes flicked towards Shi, who had lunged forwards to help his partner but was being restrained by four Death Eaters. He slumped to the ground, the victim of some debilitating spell.

A gurgle rose from her mouth and she gripped his arm with both hands, trying to press her fingernails down into a tender spot—any tender spot, but it was like he was unfeeling.

Voldemort laughed at her struggles. "Pitiful," he said, and ripped off her hood.

Blood red hair spilled from the balaclava and she stared at him with wide eyes. He gasped and dropped her, practically flinging her to the ground. She hit and rolled to her feet, choking and clutching at her throat as she scrambled for her sword.

He strode up to her and knocked her backwards, wrapping one hand about her thick hair and pulling her towards him. She lashed out, hitting and punching like a wildcat, but he snarled a spell and her body locked into place, only her eyes able to move, rolling about in their sockets wildly as she stared her death in the eyes. Voldemort whipped her around to face the crowd.

"What is this?" he demanded, staring at him to his Death Eaters. "Explain this!" Shi raised his head, breath shuddering from his wiry frame as he struggled with the Death Eaters standing over him.

"E-Explain what, Your Excellence?" a meek voice asked from underneath one of the black robes.

"This!" he snapped, and his fingernail drove into her cheek, just under her eye. She would have cried out in pain, but her mouth was frozen shut. Panicking, she struggled underneath it, fighting, willing her body to move. A finger wiggled. "Look at her eyes!"

The ground gathered about, and some recoiled in shock. While his eyes were a burning red, hers were a smoldering jade, and their pupils were slit like a cat's.

"What does this mean?" he snarled.

"C-Could the prophecy h-have anything to do with it, Y-Your Majesty?" the same meek voice asked.

"Prophecy?" Voldemort snarled. Chandre echoed his question mentally. What the hell was going on? His fingers gripped tighter about her arms, and suddenly she could move her entire hand.

Erupting into motion she spun about in his arms and struck him in the face, then shoved herself away, feet kicking him in the thighs as she leapt backwards.

Instantly seventeen wands lowered themselves at her, but Voldemort waved them off, bearing down on her with hate blazing in his eyes. Scuttling away crab-style, she rolled over and found her sword, clutching it so tightly in her hands that her knuckles turned white.

"Prepared to fight me, are you, Muggle?" Voldemort sneered, nearly completely enraged. "You will die either way." Shi struggled to his feet again, but a particularly brutal spell rippled through the clearing and brought him to the ground in a boneless heap.

"Try me," Chandre snarled back, but the snarl came out as a squeak. He was going to kill her. Her stomach clenched. Seemed like her bad feeling had been right . . .

She caught a flash of colored movement and the blue tremor of spells as Voldemort spoke, his voice thundering with power as he raised his wand and lowered it steadily at her.

Green light rushed at her, and his words pressed into her mind, drowning out all other noise.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Her sword took the brunt of the spell, glowing a fascinating green before shattering, and the power ran up her hand like black lightening, burning and eating through her mind. Her mouth opened in a scream, and the green light engulfed her, sending her spiraling into darkness.


End file.
